


Five Golden Things

by Endelda



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, My First Smut, POV Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-29
Updated: 2014-12-29
Packaged: 2018-03-04 04:48:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2952953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Endelda/pseuds/Endelda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Something about her had irrevocably captured his attention</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Golden Things

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Licioic for her gracious beta work! Any mischaracterization of the Fifth Doctor is entirely my own fault; I'm not nearly as familiar with Classic Doctors as I am with NewWho, but I'm working on it!
> 
> I own only the products of my own imagination.

The Doctor closed his bedroom door behind him. It was a room he rarely visited; he didn’t need to sleep nearly as often as his companions, and there were a variety of other rooms that better suited his needs when passing the time as the only creature awake on the TARDIS (aside from the TARDIS herself, of course).

The room itself was simple, with white walls and back-lit amber roundels, a sturdy wooden dressing table in a dark grain with a matching chair and an unadorned bed as the only furnishings. There was an unmarked door leading to the en suite, which was rarely used both by virtue of his efficient physiology and the fact that it was only reachable through his bedroom. He headed for the en suite now though, slipping his beige frock coat off and draping it over the dressing table’s chair as he passed. He pushed the door open and lifted his jumper over his head as he entered the small gleaming room in hope that a shower would help to settle his mind, or at least to distract him.

His mind was aswirl with unaccustomed emotions and images as he paced the small space agitatedly in his trousers and shirt sleeves. Adric had turned up missing during a visit to a 68th century science museum, and Nyssa and Tegan had also managed to wander off while they’d been searching for the boy. As it turned out, the youth had managed to get into an argument with a local mathematical theorist. Although he’d found them all within a matter of hours, it had been a tedious search and he was more tired than he usually allowed himself to become before a rest cycle.

He sighed and ran his hand over his face. “Who exactly am I trying to deceive, eh?” he muttered half to himself and half to the TARDIS. She hummed sympathetically.

It wasn’t his weariness that was bothering him, nor was it his slight exasperation with his companions’ marked tendency to constantly wander away. What was bothering him was the strength and persistence of his recollections regarding the woman he’d met in the museum while searching for his three wandering strays. She was a young blonde human woman with gold tinged, whiskey-coloured eyes, and for some reason he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her since he’d spotted his companions and they’d parted ways.

He couldn’t understand it. He was more or less constantly surrounded by young females of one race or another, and although he grasped that they were generally considered to be attractive by the standards of their own people, they never really stirred him in that manner. Physical lust wasn’t unknown among his people, however it  _was_ relatively rare and wasn’t usually triggered by a person’s actual physical attributes, which were fleeting and could change through regeneration at literally any time. Instead, physical attraction for Time Lords (and Gallifreyans who hadn’t yet completed their Academy courses) usually occurred as a by-product of a more intimate telepathic connection.

He shook his head as he disrobed and stepped toward the shower. Usually, he preferred to cleanse himself sonically for its speed and thoroughness, however he decided that a hot water wash might be better for alleviating this unaccustomed and unwelcome tension. He closed his eyes and stepped under the hot spray, only opening them when he felt a nudge from the TARDIS in the back of his mind. He immediately spotted a flannel and a bottle of body scrub on a small shelf, and reached out to wet the cloth. He poured some of the soap onto the flannel, then rubbed his hands together to work up a foam and began to wash his chest with leisurely motions.

  
As he scrubbed, the Doctor wondered absently what the young woman had thought of him. Regeneration was something of a lottery, but he supposed he was probably at least decently attractive by human standards this go-round. His chest was pleasantly broad, his eyes were a medium shade of warm hazeley brown, and his hair was a similar shade to her own..

He squeaked slightly in surprise at the pleasant shudder that made its way up his back when a trail of bubbles ran down his chest and over his groin. He groaned inwardly as he realized that, somehow, his body was responding to his thoughts about the blonde, even though he hadn’t had any telepathic contact with her. It was maddening. The brief glimpse he’d caught of her time line, although intriguing, shouldn’t have been enough to set up this type of response in his system. He scrubbed harder at his chest as he thought about her peculiarities in an effort to distract himself.

Her time line had been unusually long for a human, and shone with an uncommon shade of shimmering gold. Even though he hadn’t made any sort of connection with her, he’d sensed a capacity for telepathy that was unusual in a human from her time. That was another thing that had caught his interest. Her time line indicated that she was obviously anachronistic, and yet she neither wore any sort of vortex manipulator nor evidenced any of the common mannerisms of a Time Agent. Chiefly though, it wasn’t anything he’d sensed about her that had captured his attention so thoroughly.

Her personality and character had shone like a golden nova. Her clear concern and sympathy for his worry over his temporarily lost companions, her quick wit and intelligence, and her ability to make him laugh in spite of his aggravation were the things that he was having a hard time putting out of his mind. He grumbled to himself as he reached out and braced one hand against the shower wall, reaching down with the soapy flannel to scrub at his thighs with the other. He was doing his best to ignore his unruly erection, but his efforts to will it away were abruptly derailed when his breath hitched as the inside of his wrist brushed against the straining flesh.

His eyes closed reflexively as unaccustomed sensation shot through him. He wasn’t in the habit of having to deal with this sort of situation, since it wasn’t one he found himself in very often. He was, of course, aware of the mechanisms of physical arousal, but manual stimulation was viewed by most Gallifreyans as deplorably self-indulgent. The Doctor knew that males of many races didn’t share this view and personally he had no issues with it, but there was a faint trace of lingering guilt in the recesses of his mind as he gently wrapped the soapy flannel around his throbbing cock.

All the breath left him in a whoosh as he squeezed himself lightly, then tried a short experimental stroke. The slickness and friction of the cloth was nearly overpowering and he went slowly so he didn’t entirely lose control of himself. He leaned closer to the wall of the shower and braced his forehead against his forearm as images and memories began to flash through his mind.

A blonde woman, smiling at him with her tongue caught charmingly between her teeth.

A hearty laugh, and a nudge from her shoulder to his own.

The way her breasts moved beneath her vest as she giggled. His hand sped up slightly.

The sway of her hips as she led him around the museum.

His breath caught again at the imagined feel of her breasts in his hands, slick with soap and water as he caressed and pinched her nipples.

His grip on his erection tightened and his hand sped up yet again as he imagined her on her knees before him, full lips wrapped around his length and brown eyes gazing up at him through a curtain of wet golden hair.

He imagined pushing his cock into the tightness and human-heat of her sex and his hand froze as his back arched suddenly. His orgasm boiled through his veins and ejaculate splashed against the shower wall in a burst of effervescent golden fluid as a startled, almost pained cry was torn from his throat.

The Doctor took a deep breath, then released it in a heavy sigh. He finished washing and rinsing himself quickly as he realized that, although his physical self was now satisfied, a new ache had begun in his mind. He supposed that was what he got for only carrying out half of a process that was meant to be fulfilled differently for his race.

He dried himself and dressed in the clean clothing that the TARDIS had thoughtfully laid out, then left his room for the more public spaces of the ship. Once he was in the corridor however, he changed his mind. Perhaps some time in the zero room would prove to be of benefit to help him finish settling. He still hadn’t been able to work out why it always smelled of roses.

 


End file.
